


I'm Sorry

by MarbleHornet9



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Depression, Everything Hurts, Everything isn't fine, Gen, Mentions of Character Death, Post-Marble Hornets, Tim misses everyone, maybe jam if you squint and tilt your head, ranting, tim lamenting over everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 13:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4837319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarbleHornet9/pseuds/MarbleHornet9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim doesn't want to remember anything. He wants to forget and move on. But how can he, knowing that the only 'friends' he ever had never got a real goodbye?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Sorry

**Author's Note:**

> This is... My first story here! Congrats to me!
> 
> WARNINGS:  
> -Mentions of character death  
> -Depressive symptoms  
> -Major mentions of anxiety  
> -Tim crying (That's worthy of a warning on it's own.)

Tim sat in his armchair, stagnant, not really sure what to do. At the best of times he was awkward and uncertain, eyes darting from side to side nervously, running his hands over his face. Said hands twitched impatiently in his lap, and he entwined them to try to stop the incessant shaking. Exhaling and looking out the window, he let himself have a slight break, a short period of relief before he began speaking.

He could feel his chest tightening, each breath was starting to become a struggle to inhale. “Ground yourself,” His therapist had said, all those years ago as a scared little boy sat in front of him, fringe covering his dark eyes. “Find five things you can see, four you can hear, three you can feel, two you can smell, and one you can taste.”

It was good advice, and Tim would have listened to it- if his anxiety attacks didn’t leave him gasping for air, the world spiraling out of control and make his mind buzz like a thousand bees were trapped inside. Smelling things didn’t make the hallucinations go away, and feeling things didn’t make the gut wrenching pain in his chest leave him.

Looking out the window, Tim took a deep breath. After hastily scanning the neighborhood for any ominous figures- a mask, a hood, a tall creature- he relaxed slightly, shoulders drooping a bit. ‘Five things I can see…’

Well, there was his front yard- dismal compared to the other lush gardens that dotted the dead end street he lived on. Weeds sprouted through the cracks in his pathway, and the rosebush next to the fence had grown slightly too large, slightly too wild. Often, people would give disdainful looks as they passed- But Tim liked the weeds and the rosebush. Why were weeds a problem? They weren’t hurting anyone. They didn’t mean to be hated, they were just doing what they lived to do. The yellow fireweed, in Tim’s opinion, was nicer than any kind of peony or orchid. It was unique, in its own way, surviving against the odds.

Tim had considered removing the rose bush, using the shovel he had found leaning against his gate one day. But as he stood in front of it, observing its twisting vines and thorny exterior, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It wasn’t like the other bushes, neat and trimmed, presenting a perfect picture. Untamed, defiant, and proud- Who was he to take it away? He respected that bush.

Tim debated whether or not to count those two as separate things or not, before just deciding to count them as the same thing. He skimmed through the next four visionary aspects- A child’s bike, worn and abandoned on the gutter… The houses across the street, white walls and shining windows… The road, littered with potholes that the local council was yet to fix… And Tim’s car, barely ever used apart from occasional trips to get groceries.

‘Four things I can hear…’

Did his own thoughts count as one? Oh well, that would do. The low buzzing of the cheap fridge in the next room over was another. The leaves rustling on the trees from the forest, just across the other side of the street behind the houses…. No. Tim shuddered, steering his thoughts away from anything forest related. He quickly counted the fourth as the birds bickering above the house, perched precariously on the telegraph pole wires.

‘Three things I can feel…’

Pain, was the first thing Tim registered. Internal pain, that screamed from the depths of his heart, spindly fingers reaching out and ripping the organ in two, whilst the world kept on spinning, spinning, spinning… Whilst the world continued on without him. Without the people who had died, the people who were so young and didn’t deserve to be taken away so soon. The people who were innocent, and had so much life ahead of them, so many people to help, so many people to make smile… The world just kept spinning.

Pain, yeah. Pain was definitely something Tim felt.

The feel of the wooden chair beneath him, pressing the lighter in his pocket into his skin with an uncomfortable amount of pressure. Shifting his position, Tim tried to get more comfortable, before giving up and going back to staring out the window. One more.

Fear? Yes, there was a tiny bit of fear left. But it wasn’t fear of that thing, The Operator- it was a more human kind of fear. He didn’t want to be alone, he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life getting up in the morning to the deafening silence of an empty house, an empty heart.

Tim doubted that his therapist had wanted him to become so philosophical, but honestly, he didn’t really care what his therapist wanted. The emotional side outweighed the physical side of things, in Tim’s opinion. Did his therapist ever lose his only friends? Did his therapist ever have an eldritch horror make every day a living nightmare? Did his therapist have to murder someone? Did his therapist have to go through the pain of knowing that it was his fault, his mistakes that caused so much agony?

‘Two things I can smell…’

At least Tim couldn’t get very philosophical with this one. He could if he tried, but trying was something he’d given up on a long time ago.

A damp, musty smell was the first thing Tim noticed, probably from the storm last night. He hated it. It reminded him of the times he’d wake up, disorientated, and surrounded by foliage and dirt, not really knowing where he was, but knowing that something bad had happened.

The other thing Tim could smell was smoke. No, his house wasn’t burning down. ‘Again…’ Tim mentally added in, his tone of thought bitter. No, the smoke was from the abundance of cigarettes he smoked every day in an attempt to dull the knife stabbing into his gut. The smell had ingrained itself into the woodworks, staining it. It would definitely make the house hard to sell in the future, but once again, Tim didn’t care. He didn’t care about much at all, these days.

Tim let out a sigh- The final quest, to find the one thing he could taste.  
‘Saliva,’ His mind muttered, as sarcastic as ever. Considering that ‘saliva’ was a pretty unsatisfactory answer, Tim swallowed, paying attention to his taste buds. There was a hint of cornflakes from that morning’s breakfast, and he dislodged a small piece from between his teeth with his tongue.

Surprisingly, the exercise worked- The tightness in Tim’s chest had subsided, replaced with the familiar ache he felt on a regular basis. Gritting his teeth, Tim was forced to admit to himself that maybe his therapist was right.

The exercise was also a magnificent time waster, as Tim noticed when he realised half an hour had already passed. He leant forward, checking the camera that sat perched on the counter top in front of him. The light was still blinking, and there was still a good hour left on battery. Leaning back, Tim ran a hand through his hair, scratching his cheek absentmindedly. Why did he decide to do this again? In the name of justice? Whatever the reason was, he reflected, it was a bad idea. Being in front of a camera again just brought back old fears and memories that were better left forgotten. He’d already wasted a good deal of the day procrastinating, and it was sure to take a while longer if he didn’t just get on with it.

Sighing to himself disdainfully, Tim shifted, forcing himself to look directly at the camera lens. He paused- It didn’t seem right. Shouldn’t Jay be holding it, face hidden between the object and his cap? He should, but he wasn’t. He never would, ever again.

Shaking his head, Tim ploughed on.

“…Uh, hey… It’s been a really long while. I guess this is, what, Entry 88? That’s… That’s a lot,” Tim cleared his throat, licking his lips, which had dried out by now. “I wasn’t going to make any more of these, but… I’m not going to upload this anyway, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”

Why was he doing this?! It was stupid. It wouldn’t make himself feel better at all.

“This is for… Jay. And Alex, and Brian, and everyone else I hurt. You won’t get to watch this. Nobody will, but maybe one day someone will find it, and realise that I care… Because, I do. And I have so much to say, with no way to say it. Alex, I’m sorry. It wasn’t you… It wasn’t you that day. Or any of those days, really. You were just used, and I’m sorry for making you out like the bad guy. I’m not saying you’re a great person- No way. You’re pretentious, you’re bossy, you have a bad taste in films, and you’re a terrible director. But you’re a good person, and that’s… really what matters. If I had… gotten to know you, the real you, maybe I would have ended up liking you. Or, I may have continued to dislike you. I don’t really know.”

He paused, letting himself breathe for a few seconds before continuing. He would never have been able to say these things if an actual person stood in front of him- They’d have become twisted, and morphed into hurdles that Tim would just end up tripping over.

“Brian. You were… My best friend. You gave me confidence, gave me a life. And I… I know I’ll never be able to repay you for that. You’re one of the nicest people I know, and I… I’ll never get to say thanks. I wish I knew it was you, under that hood. Maybe I could have helped… Although I probably couldn’t. I only seem to make things worse. But Brian, I know I’ll never be as good as you, and I know I’ll never be able to live up to your expectations. I really miss you. Those days in college were a breath of fresh air. I just… I wish I could look back on those days and smile, instead of becoming more aware of the hole in my chest. Brian, I’m sorry. You had so much left to live for, you had a bright future, but I screwed it up for you. I’m sorry.”

Tim rolled his shoulders back, taking a long pause. Looking up at the ceiling, he quietly ground his teeth together. The words he’d kept shut inside for years were finally pouring out, and they made Tim feel vulnerable, like he was exposing the soft part of him, leaving a chink in his carefully crafted armour. Someone could come up and stab that chink, potentially destroying him. He didn’t like it, he hated it, but he knew that he needed to talk. The words had festered in his throat for such a long time, and they would only grow more rotten as time passed, poisoning his mind. Swallowing thickly, Tim dragged his gaze back to the blinking light, and the lens. This next spiel was going to be painful.

“Jay.”

Great, his voice was already cracking.

“I... Have so much to say. I wish you could have heard what I wanted to say… you’re an amazing person. You always used to talk down about yourself, but you’re wrong. You used to say I was strong, but you’re the strong one. You wanted to help people, you wanted people to know… If I were in your situation, I would have run away. I would have turned my back on my chain-smoking, mentally unstable companion and lived a normal life. But you didn’t, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why. Maybe you’re too valiant, or maybe you’re just stupid. I’m leaning more toward the latter.”

He was really craving some nicotine right now, but the packet was across the other side of the room, and Tim knew that if he got up now, he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to come back to the camera.

“I miss you, buddy. I miss the way you would stay up at night staring at your computer until you could barely keep your eyes open, I miss the way you would throw yourself into dangerous situations with your ridiculous camera. Hell, I even miss your abhorrent attitude. But I guess that’s why we were good together- Two people, poisoned by the world, equally afraid, both shunned by society.”

No. Don’t cry.

“I know that you’re gone. I know that I’ll never see you again. And I wish I could have done something, and Jay, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

He was crying. It wasn’t bawling, just a few tears streaming down his cheeks. Enough to make his voice waver, uncertain, fragile.

“I wish you knew…That I cared for you. It haunts me every day, knowing that you probably thought I hated you when you died. That you thought you were alone, forgotten. I tried to forget you, Jay. I really tried. But I can’t. I can’t! And I don’t want to, but at the same time, I do! I’m so confused, and I have nobody to talk to about this! I’m alone again! I wish you were here, I wish you all were here- Brian, you’d make some half-arsed joke while comforting me, Alex, you’d use a cheesy line from your stupid goddamn script, and Jay- you’d fidget, and look away, but I would know that you feel the same way! And afterwards, you’d let me spill all my thoughts out, and you’d counter each and every bad thing I said about myself- Because that’s the type of person you are!”

He was yelling at the camera, a steady stream of tears flowing from his eyes. It hurt, god, it hurt. He could practically hear his heart beating in his chest, threatening to leap out and strangle him. He felt like he was in that lake again, choking, struggling to get to the surface where he could breathe- Except this time, there was no surface.

Tim forced himself to swallow his sobs, blink away the tears, and shove the memories back into the darkest corners of his mind. “I’m… Sorry,” He uttered, voice hoarse, eyes sincere. “For all of this.”

He took a few deep breaths, chest heaving like he’d run a marathon.

“Everything… Isn’t fine. But that’s okay. Because… It was never fine in the first place.”

He hesitated, before reaching out to stop the camera filming. Finger poised to press the button, Tim looked at the lens, still staring at him expectantly. Tim stared back, a small part of him somehow believing that that’s how Brian, Alex, and Jay would have looked at him too. What would they want? Would they be happy with this? What is it that they would want to be reassured with?

Tim was out of words, so instead, he offered a rarity- a small smile. It wasn’t the brightest smile, nor was it too wide, just a twitch of the lips- but a smile all the same.

Applying pressure to the button, the flashing light faded, as though satisfied. Tim stayed in that position, slowly gathering himself. He still hurt, he still felt like he was missing a part of himself; but he felt lighter, somehow. It was by no means a miracle, nor did it give him a new lease on life- He doubted anything could do that. But at least now, those words were gone. He could try to forget, force himself to get up in the morning, or lay awake at night for hours when sleep eluded him. Maybe the pain would never go away. The memories would fade with time, and he might forget the exact colour of Jay’s eyes, or how Brian looked when he smiled. Alex’s features might become blurry, and Jessica’s voice could become his own, unable to be focused upon, never the right pitch.

Slowly, he would forget, like it or not. He’d forget the small details, but he couldn’t forget the beautiful souls, the personalities. Some things would remain- Jay’s kindness, his hope, his bleak outlook. Brian’s laugh, his insufferably positive attitude. Alex’s ramblings, the way he’d strut around the college grounds like some sort of proud peacock.

He’d forget, but at the same time, he wouldn’t.

And Tim was okay with that.


End file.
